We'll Meet Again
by meilin-m
Summary: Torchwood is lured to the Himalayas as the Master consolidates his power.


**Chapter One: The Fairy Meadow**

"Fairy Meadow?" Owen Harper had said, Googling away. "We're going to bloody New South Wales?"

"No," Ianto Jones had replied, staring intently at his workstation readouts. "The Himalayas. Near Nanga Parbat. Ninth-highest mountain on Earth. It's a tourist spot, primarily--spectacular views of the mountain. Some climbers use it as a preparation point before heading to the northern base camp."

New Prime Minister Saxon had personally demanded their immediate departure. He had been so insistent that when Ianto took the call, the rest of the crew could hear Saxon's worried, near-frantic voice through his earpiece from several meters away. "I want you in Pakistan yesterday!"

"I don't care how serious this is, I don't like it," Toshiko Sato had murmured as she packed her gear. "I don't like leaving with Jack away like this. We don't even know where he is."

"Can't be helped, can it?" Gwen Cooper had answered, but her face had been troubled.

Now, here they were, all four of them and their gear on a gently bowl-shaped plateau so green it nearly hurt the eyes, sprinkled with wildflowers. Tall pine trees ringed it all round. Nothing other than a gaggle of tourists, and the mountain itself rising above the pines like a white wall.

"No sign of anything the least bit out of the ordinary, at least for Pakistan at 33-hundred meters," grumped Owen, unshouldering his pack. "Any of you finding anything?"

"Nothing," said Gwen, fingering her earpiece as she strode up to the other three. "No one in local government has the faintest idea what I'm talking about." She turned away and began speaking very slowly to the air. "Yes. Can I PLEASE...speak with someone...who understands...English?"

Peering over the tops of her glasses, Tosh shook her head at her laptop, precariously balanced on a pile of gear. "Nothing. Ianto," she said, looking up at him, "why are we here?"

He looked down with a small frown. "You'd almost think someone wanted us gone from Cardiff."

"You're sure it wasn't New South Wales?" said Owen, scanning the tourists.

Ianto ignored him. "It is beautiful, though." He brought his field glasses up to his eyes and scanned the mountain. "Wait." Something small and bright--no, several small, bright somethings--appeared over the tree line.

Gwen turned at the sound of his voice, her face pale. "Something's wrong. I finally reached an intelligence officer in Gilgit--" She pulled the earpiece off and thrust it into her jeans pocket. "He just started screaming. There's nothing but screaming..."

Ianto watched as the metallic dots grew into little spheres, whizzing through the air under their own power. "I think I see our aliens."

The spheres playfully buzzed the meadow, scattering the three dozen or so sightseers like a herd of spooked sheep. Tosh struggled to her feet in rapt fascination, laptop forgotten as she watched the spheres dance through the air.

And then they began to fire on the fleeing tourists.

Owen took up his pack and grabbed Tosh's hand.

"RUN."

**Chapter Two: Owen and Tosh**

"Where are Ianto and Gwen! Owen! Slow down! We've lost Ianto and Gwen!"

Owen was dragging her, crashing through the understory of the pine trees. Tosh struggled to keep up with Owen's much longer strides.

"We can't stop, Tosh, it can't be helped," he said, breathing hard as he ran. "They're adults, and they're armed. First we get to safety, then we figure out what the fuck is going on, then we meet back up."

They ran on in silence, Tosh clinging to Owen's hand.

"Owen!" Tosh gasped as they broke into a small clearing. "Please, we have to stop." She dropped his hand and bent, hands braced on her knees. Her breath came in white puffs in the cold. Owen's lungs felt as if they were on fire, and his wiry chest heaved as he sucked in the thin air.

"My laptop...all my gear...it's all back there, I don't have anything with me," Tosh panted. "Do we have anything with us? Anything at all?"

"Just my pack," Owen answered, catching his breath. "I think we've got some rations...ammo. I've got our ammo. My sidearm." He scanned the trees ahead, trying to gauge their position.

From the too-near distance came the sound of screams, terrified screams. "We have to keep going," Owen rasped out, taking her hand again. He turned--

--and there at the clearing's edge stood a team of commandos, dressed all in black, faces masked. Owen ran his eyes over them. Elite outfit, obviously. No insignia. "What flag?" he called, still panting. There was no answer. "What flag!"

Finally, the point man spoke. "British"

"Oh thank God," said Tosh, relaxing slightly.

"Listen," said Owen, stepping forward, "We're Torchwood--"

Eight machine gun barrels came up. "Whoa, steady on!" cried Owen, backpedaling.

"Wait," said Tosh. "We were called here by the Prime Minister--there are people back in the Fairy Meadows dying!"

One of the men spoke. "Doctor Toshiko Sato. Doctor Owen Harper." It wasn't a question, and it wasn't addressed to them. The team leader aimed his submachine gun straight at Owen.

Tosh clutched Owen's shoulder, eyes showing white all around. "What are you doing!" she screamed. "We're on your side!"

Owen felt the bullet hit him square in the chest. Probably nicked his heart, definitely punctured a lung, he thought objectively as he hit the ground. His vision went dark almost immediately. Hm, he thought. Bleeding out internally. Hard to think. Fuck. This hurts.

Somewhere above him he heard Tosh calling his name, screaming his name. He felt her pull his head into her lap; now she was kissing him, kissing his eyes, his forehead, brushing his hair back from his face. He felt something like warm raindrops--tears, must be her tears. Why was she crying over him? he wondered. He'd been such a bastard to her.

"Owen!" he heard her sob. "No! Owen, I love you!" There was a second crack. Tosh made a gurgling sound, and her body fell against his chest. She was still.

I'm dying, thought Owen. Tosh is dead, and I'm dying.

_Owen_

A voice, coming through the silence filling his ears, filling his mind.

Mum? Gran? Grandad? No. All three--and many more voices, all speaking as one voice.

_Owen. It's going to be all right. Everything is going to be all right._

Owen's breathing slowed, and then stopped. All right. It was going to be--

**Chapter Three: Gwen and Jack**

It was cold in the Valiant's brig. Gwen Cooper sat on the floor, slumped against the cell wall, her dark hair nearly covering her face. She clutched her blood-soaked jacket around her.

Stretched out on the bunk bolted to the opposite wall lay her boss, Jack Harkness, dead of a bullet to the--well. There were so many bullet holes, who could say.

Jack came to with a sharp intake of breath. Gwen looked up for a moment, her wide eyes empty and uncomprehending. Jack stared wildly about the cell for a moment, getting his bearings. His eyes focused--and there she was.

"Oh my God. Gwen?" He sat up shakily on the bed. Gwen made no move to help, but stared off into the middle distance, as if the space below the bunk contained the horizon. "Are you hurt?" His strength slowly returning, he slipped off the bunk and crouched on the floor next to her. "Gwen!" He shook her slightly. "Are you hurt?"

Gwen didn't look at him. "No"

Jack began gently peeling the jacket, sticky with blood, from her. "If it's not yours, whose blood is this? C'mon honey, talk to me."

"It's Ianto's," she said, almost dreamily. Jack sat down hard, choking back sudden tears. Awareness flickered in the back of Gwen's hazel eyes. "Jack?"

"I'm here. Give me your other arm." Gwen obeyed, moving slowly, and Jack finished removing the jacket and coaxed her onto the bunk beside him.

"They're dead. All of them. They--we went to Pakistan. No one seemed to know what was going on, why we were there, and then..." She wrinkled her brow, trying to think. "There were these globes..."

"I know," murmured Jack. "I'm going to take your shirt off now." Ianto's blood had soaked through the jacket in places. Jack unbuttoned the shirt and eased her arms out of it, leaving her in a silk thermal vest and her bra. In the corner was a small pail of water left for him to drink; he dipped the shirt tail in it and used it to begin wiping the dried blood from her hands and face.

"We ran. And we got separated. Ianto and I came upon some soldiers--they were British, but they shot at us," she marveled. Her voice was dazed, almost a whisper. "We made it to Tatu Village, they cornered us in Tatu. Ianto tried to...they shot him. They couldn't reach us yet, but they shot at us, and Ianto pushed me down and he..." She trailed off. "He bled to death. They let him bleed to death." Jack squeezed his eyes shut, but tears slipped out and down his face. "He always had such pretty rosy cheeks, Ianto. Ashen he was, all ashen. I'm so cold"

Jack put his arms around her and pulled her down to lie next to him on the narrow bed. He pulled his great coat over them for a blanket.

"They sat me in the back of a lorry with them. Owen and Tosh and Ianto. They wouldn't let me close Owen's eyes." A long pause. Her enormous eyes searched his face. "Are you actually here, Jack, or am I imagining you"

"I'm here, sweetheart," he said, cuddling her closer. "I'm here, Gwen. I won't leave you."

Gwen began to shake uncontrollably. She felt so small in his arms, almost like a child, and he began to rock her gently back and forth, stroking her hair and singing softly to her in his low tenor. He ran through every song he knew that night, down to "Chattanooga Choo-Choo," "Yellow Submarine" and "It's a Long Way to Tipperary" before coming back around to his favorite.

"We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when," he whispered, cradling her. "But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day..." Exhaustion finally stopped her shaking, and she dropped off into a dead sleep.

Only then did Jack allow himself to really cry, as silently as he could, breathing in the scent of her hair mingled with Ianto's blood.

**Chapter Four: Jack Alone**

"Where were you, Jack?"

Jack roused from his light doze. "You're awake." His left arm was falling asleep, and he shifted Gwen's weight a little.

"I asked, where were you." Gwen's voice was flat and her eyes were hard, but she stayed in his arms, glaring up at him. Angry, but an improvement from barely coherent, thought Jack.

He sighed aloud. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I would never have left you all for any other reason in the world, you have to believe that." He kissed the top of her head. "The Doctor came back."

Her eyes softened. "The one you've been looking for--the 'right kind'?--came back? You actually knew this doctor, then."

"Ohhh, yes." They were silent for a moment.

"So he wasn't able to...to help you, I take it."

"No." Jack stared at the ceiling. "There's nothing he can do." She squeezed him gently in sympathy.

"Has there been a coup in the UK, then? What's happening, why were we attacked by our own people like that? Is the Prime Minister still in power?"

"You were set up. Saxon is an alien."

Gwen sat up on one elbow, the great coat covering them slipping from her shoulder. "WHAT?!"

"He's an old enemy of the Doctor, calls himself the Master. Same species as the Doc--Time Lords." Gwen stared at him open-mouthed. He reached up and wryly tapped her chin--"Sweetheart, you're catching flies"--and sobered again. "He's taken the Doctor prisoner. This guy's the real thing--crazy maniac intent on taking over the universe. He's starting here."

Gwen sat up all the way, scrabbling for her shirt. "Then what's the plan? What are we doing?"

He took her hands and held them, forcing her to look at him. "The Doctor has a plan, but I'm not sure what it is. Martha's out there somewhere working on it. There's nothing we can do except wait."

"Wait--Martha Jones? The terrorist Martha Jones? We're leaving this up to a _terrorist._"

"She's no terrorist, she's a medical student. She's another friend of the Doctor's, and she's the bravest girl I know. Well--" he said, tilting his head and smiling slightly at Gwen--"one of 'em."

Gwen's face turned pale. "I'm not brave. I'm not." She gathered her shirt in her hands, connecting the smeared dots of blood with a fingertip. "He died protecting me. And I have to sit here and wait for a girl--a medical student no less, no training, no nothing, and a suspected terrorist to boot--to magically save us." She turned wild eyes to Jack. "I held Ianto while he died. His last thoughts were of Lisa--and you." Jack flinched. "They blew Tosh's brains out! She was clinging so hard to Owen when they died that the soldiers couldn't separate them--they were buried in each other's arms!"

Her voice rose, more than a touch of hysteria in it. "I watched them record the mass burial of three of my best friends in an unmarked grave with HUNDREDS of others, and here I am, alive, and I don't know why, and I don't know what's happened to Rhys, and you want me to WAIT?"

Just then the cell door slammed open and the Prime Minister stuck his head in.

"I'm sorry, is this a bad time? Should I come back later? No," he grinned, "I don't think there's such a thing as a bad time for a visit from me, is there. It's always SO good to see me."

He strolled into the cell, two armed commandos at his back and his wife at his side. "HEL-lo, DC Cooper, I'm the Master. Your Master. And you're alive simply because I thought it'd be fun to give the freak here a first-person account of the destruction of Torchwood. Could've been any of you, really. You were just the one who hid best behind the others."

Gwen bit off a moan. Jack tensed, and the commandos raised their machine guns. "Ah-ah, 'Captain,' I don't think she shares your special talent, does she?" tsked the Master. "Stand up, ducks, let's have a look at you." He waved Gwen up from the bunk; she looked to Jack, he gave her a slight nod, and she rose shakily to her feet.

"Look at those eyes, Luce, big as saucers, isn't that the phrase?" The Master whistled. "And the cute little gap between the teeth? Makes you wonder what kissing her is like, doesn't it? Ooh, better--" he leaned toward Jack confidentially and nearly whispered. "I wonder how that feels when she's blowing you." Gwen colored deeply and her breath picked up; Jack merely glared. "Or have you already found that out? Perhaps I should keep her and find out for myself. No smart remarks? We must've hit a nerve, Lucy! Usually you have to kill him to shut him up!" Lucy shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

The Master reached out and tweaked one of Gwen's nipples, stiff from the cold. Before she could stop herself, Gwen's hand shot out and grabbed the Master's thumb, pulling back hard, a move that usually resulted in a shriek of pain from her attacker. But not this time.

He moved so fast she couldn't track exactly what he'd done. But before she knew what had happened, she was on her knees before him, one arm pulled up and behind her back, hard, the Master's hand fisted in her hair. "Oh, darling! if I'd known you were this eager, I would have put you up in my suite," he laughed. He let her go, throwing her to the floor.

"I think it's time for a field trip. I can show you the sights of Cardiff."

**Chapter Five: Jack Alone**

The only living things in Cardiff stood on the windswept Roald Dahl Plass, or what was left of it. Smoke filled the air from buildings still burning all around the city. The bay was lowering, a dark, unsettling color. The Torchwood 3 hub, once buried deep underneath the Plass, was a gaping hole.

"The whole city," whispered Gwen. "You killed the whole city...Rhys"

"Couldn't have aliens and time travelers skulking about, and I didn't want to bother tracking them all down individually," the Master shrugged. "You can't ever tell who else might've been keeping tabs on what you were doing here, and I couldn't be too careful, could I? I mean, how many gits did you lot let track you down--starting with the Girl Detective here?" He rolled his eyes. "By the time I became Prime Minister, you even had groupies! Rassilon's ball sac, you had to have been THE worst secret organization of ALL TIME," he cried, flinging his arms wide.

Gwen wheeled around, tears running down her face. "You murdered every soul in Cardiff because of us?!"

"Well. If it makes it any easier, it was also really fun," he giggled, throwing a rock into the pit. "Wasn't it, kids?" he shouted.

His escort of silver globes dipped and swooped in the air, echoing "Fun! Fun! Fun!" in their high, childish voices. The Master scrabbled happily through the ruins looking for good throwing rocks, leaving the Toclafane and his soldiers to watch his prisoners.

Gwen faced the bay, trying to control her breathing, the wind whipping her dark hair and drying the tears from her cheeks. Her eyes were the color of the bay, and her mouth was set in a grim line. She picked up one foot and shook it, then the other.

"Gwen," said Jack, his voice low and urgent. "Don't. I need you to stay." He put an arm around her shoulder.

"I can't. I can't go back up there. I have to do something."

"And what exactly do you think you can do on your own?" he whispered urgently.

"And what exactly do you think will happen to me if I go back with you?" she hissed. "What do I have to live for otherwise if I don't try?"

"We have each other," he answered, watching the Master throw increasingly large chunks of concrete into what was once his home.

"And I love you, Jack. I do. You have been a friend and a teacher and a brother and--I love you." Her voice broke a little, and she waited to recover, taking his hand in hers. "Know that. We will always have each other. Always. No matter where we are, whether we're together or not, whether--whether I'm alive or not. And I can't go back up there, even if it means I die."

Jack kissed her temple and murmured something low into her hair. He pulled back and studied her expressive face, those incredible, sad eyes now rimmed in red, the freckles across the bridge of her nose. It was a good thing, he thought, that he couldn't see that goddamn sexy little gap in her teeth or his heart would break.

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "You could come with me, you know."

"No. I can't leave the Doctor alone with him." They were silent for a moment, his arm around her shoulder, her arm around his waist, leaning into each other.

"Right," said Jack, blowing out a big breath and blinking back tears. He scanned the Plass and went back to looking at the bay. "Manhole into the sewer, no cover, ten meters behind you. I am betting the Weevils are still down there, and they're not likely to be happy about the paradox."

"After all that's happened, I can handle Weevils. And if I can't, it doesn't matter."

"Promise me you'll try. Promise, Gwen." She nodded. "OK. Be ready." Jack took his arm from around her shoulders, took up her hand and started moving closer to the manhole. When they were within five meters, Jack suddenly broke free of her and ran straight at the Master, tackling him to the ground. The soldiers took off after him with a shout, and Gwen took her chance, skimming her feet down the sides of the manhole ladder out of sight.

Two of the soldiers made as if to follow while the rest of them peeled Jack off the Master. "Don't bother," he called, dusting off his suit. "Just hold him, would you? Wouldn't do to have him following her down there." The soldiers dutifully planted themselves firmly on either side of Jack, pinning his arms behind him. Jack knew what was coming next, and he didn't care. Gwen had gotten clear.

The Master walked nonchalantly up to him, straightening his tie and shooting his cuffs. "Well!" he beamed, bouncing slightly on his toes. "That went very well!"

Jack felt an icy rock form in his stomach.

"Oh, don't worry, Jackie," crooned the Master, chucking Jack under the chin. "She won't get lost. We'll know just where she is. She's still carrying her earpiece. Torchwood issue. GPS system, don't you know."

Jack cocked his head away from the Master's hand. "And just exactly how does letting her go equal some kind of evil genius move on your part, even with a tracking device?"

"Oh! Well, Captain Oblivious, any time a great man--say, me--moves to bring order to a world, there are always a few malcontents who have to form a resistance. What better person to send into that underground than good old DC Cooper! She'll keep that earpiece until she sits on it, and then keep the pieces as a memento. Probably string them on yarn and put them around her neck or something."

He gave Jack's chest a little pat. "We'll wait until she gathers up a group of resistance fighters, give 'em a couple of successes, and sweep them up. If I'm lucky, I'll get her back alive and find out aaall about that gap--and I'm very, very lucky" he said, conspiratorially.

Jack thought for a moment about telling the Master how much he underestimated Gwen--her intelligence, her bravery, her sheer heart, and her implacable anger--but thought better of it. "And so? What if she actually accomplishes something?"

The Master rolled his eyes. "Shyeah! Remember, I WAS YOUR BOSS," he shouted in Jack's face. "How many people did you lot manage to get killed, you Guardians of the Rift, you Defenders of Wales and Saint David, or should I say 'Dewi Sant'?" he said, exaggerating his vowels. "With enemies like her, who needs friends! I should have kept ALL of them alive!"

He began patting down his pockets. "Now where is that--ah! Here it is!" He pulled out a very large, very sharp knife, twirled it once in his hand, and plunged it into Jack's stomach, thrusting in and up. Jack's eyes opened wide, and blood began to appear at the corners of his mouth. He grunted in pain. The Master brought himself up close to Jack's ear.

"And the really fun part, at least for me?" whispered the Master, "is now you don't know. You don't know if she's dead or alive. You don't know how close I am to catching her. You don't know if maybe I have caught her and just haven't told you. You don't know if she's hurt or starving or raped or tortured or driven mad. You don't know, and you can't help her. And that's going to hurt a lot more--" he twisted the knife-- "than even this."

As the familiar darkness overcame him, Jack smiled. "Don't know where, don't know when..." he sang to himself, "But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day..." The darkness was complete. And for now, he welcomed it.


End file.
